Paragon of Destruction

The chamber’s high walls were filled with intricate patterns of Essence — Force, Fire, and other kinds that Arran did not recognize — that shone like beacons amid the darkness, and Arran observed them in astonishment.

He realized at once that these patterns weren’t wards or seals, but what their purpose was, he could not say. It almost seemed like they had no purpose at all — as if they were decorations, but ones that only mages could appreciate.

"Those patterns, what are they?" he asked Karanos, a questioning expression on his face.

"Writing, I would say," Karanos replied. "It might be a message for visitors, left behind when the palace was abandoned." He shrugged, then added, "But I cannot be certain. Whatever tongue the people here spoke was lost when their civilization fell."

Arran turned his gaze back to the strange patterns, and now, he recognized that Karanos was probably right. The shapes resembled writing more than anything, albeit in a language wholly different from the ones he knew.

He stood there for a moment, wondering just what message the writing might hold. A warning, perhaps — a final desperate message for future generations, to caution them of whatever it was that had brought catastrophe to this world.

But no future generations had come. The civilization that had built the city had disappeared, and its language had been lost with it. And now, the signs had been reduced to mere scribbles, with no one left to understand them.

Arran let out a sigh, then turned his attention to the rest of the chamber.

He quickly realized that the chamber held a vast amount of treasure. There were piles of gems and jewelry, carved statues, and stone relics, their shapes all unfamiliar and alien to Arran.

Had he been able to use his void ring, he would have stripped the chamber bare in moments. But as it was, he had no way to transport the treasures — there was far more than he could carry, and he doubted Karanos would help him satisfy his lust for treasure.

In the far right corner of the chamber, however, he detected something different — enchantments, he realized with some excitement. Numerous objects and artifacts lay on the ground, and more than a few of them bore traces of ancient enchantments.

Yet even as Arran moved to examine the enchanted objects, Karanos shook his head.

"Leave those items be," the mage said. "They’re of no use to us."

"But they’re enchanted," Arran objected. "Some of them might still be useful — if the enchantments have lasted this long, they cannot be weak."

"Weak, they are not," Karanos replied. "But what they are is unstable. Even the ones that still appear intact may have hidden flaws that can lead to... unexpected results." He gave a small chuckle, then added, "Trust me on this. You do not want to repeat my mistakes."

Arran gave the man a reluctant nod. "Then what are we here for?"

"The armory," Karanos said patiently. "That’s where the true treasures lie. Now follow me."

He started toward the wall at the far end of the chamber, coming to a halt just a step away from it. Then, after a brief moment of hesitation, he reached out and pressed his palm against the wall.

At once, a small portion of the wall receded and slid to the side, revealing a small doorway that led to another chamber.

As Karanos stepped through the doorway, Arran hurried behind him, the enchanted objects already forgotten at the mention of an armory.

The armory turned out to be a large chamber, nearly the size of the main treasury. And when Arran saw what lay within it, his breath caught in his throat.

The walls were lined with big racks, each filled with arms and armor. And although the cloud of Shadow Essence seemed thinner here than elsewhere, the armaments themselves all appeared to consist of pure darkness — Living Shadow, Arran realized.

"This..." he began, eyes wide with astonishment. "The shards of Living Shadow... they’re all weapons? And armor?"

"Correct," Karanos said. "And you will choose one of them for yourself."

It was not at all what Arran had expected. He’d thought the Living Shadow was some sort of substance that could be controlled to form weapons. But instead, it appeared to be the other way around — the shards of Living Shadow were weapons first, and they could be made to take other shapes.

Still, he was eager to pick one of the items. Even with a brief glance, he’d already seen plenty of things in the armory that caught his interest.

But then, a thought occurred to him, and he asked, "But how is that possible? Wouldn’t that mean they were already created before this world became a Shadow Realm?"

"They were, in a sense," Karanos replied. "From what I can tell, these objects were once made out of starmetal. But starmetal can absorb Essence, and after countless thousands of years absorbing Shadow Essence, they became what they are today — Living Shadow."

"Then starmetal can become Living Shadow?" Arran furrowed his brow in thought, and after a moment, he asked, "Then could the same thing be done with other types of Essence?"

"Most likely, yes," Karanos replied. "Though to do so would require many lifetimes — too many even for a mage. It is only through countless thousands of years of absorbing Essence that starmetal can achieve this state."

As he looked at the weapons that filled the chamber, Arran recalled something that Lord Jiang told him when he first gained a starmetal sword. "I’ve heard it said that Essence is strengthened by starmetal," he said, his expression pensive.

"And like most tales, there’s a core of truth to that one," Karanos said. "Starmetal will be strengthened as it absorbs Essence — just not on any timescale that’s useful to mere humans. Although, perhaps, if mages were to pass down a starmetal weapon across a thousand generations..."

Karanos shrugged, then abandoned the thought. "But you are lucky enough to find yourself here, so choose an item — just one, however, and one that isn’t too large."

Arran gave the mage a questioning look. "What difference does the size make?"

"When you pick a weapon," Karanos said, "you will have to feed it your own Shadow Essence — enough for you to gain some control over it, so you can stop it from inadvertently betraying our location once we leave. The larger the weapon is, the longer that will take."

Seeing Arran’s disappointed look, he chuckled, then added, "No need to be dejected. My own shard was originally a mere dagger, but it can easily become a sword or spear."

Arran gave a small nod, but he had another question. "Why just one?" he asked. "Wouldn’t it be better to have several?"

"Better?" Karanos shrugged. "Perhaps. But as you will find, ’Living Shadow’ is no mere name — the shards have some semblance of consciousness, albeit a very simple one, and they do not willingly share their territory. Even if you take two of them, one will eventually devour the other."

At this, Arran frowned, feeling a flash of reluctance at the thought of having a weapon that would not fully obey his commands. Yet his hesitation passed a moment later, when he remembered what he had seen of Karanos’s weapon.

"So I can pick any weapon I want?" he asked.

"You can take whichever item you like," Karanos replied. "Though, again, I strongly suggest you take one of the smaller pieces. Time is running short. If we remain here too long, the city will be crawling with creatures — Remnants, as you call them — when we leave."

Arran responded with a brief nod. Then, narrowing his eyes, he began to examine the treasures within the armory.

The thing item that caught his interest wasn’t a weapon but a suit of armor. There were several of those, each of them stunningly well-crafted, but this one stood out even among the others.

It held an aura of command, as if it had been made for a king or emperor, and its size was exactly right for Arran. He knew that this should make little difference — the Living Shadow could change shape, after all — but the sight still caused a shiver to run down his spine. It was as if the armor had been made for him.

He shot a glance at Karanos. "Can’t we stay here until winter passes?" That would mean spending a decade within the dungeons, but Arran thought it might be worth the price. After the years he’d already spent locked inside his own mind, a decade would hardly make a difference.

Karanos, however, firmly shook his head. "I do not know whether it will pass at all — the Shadow Essence has been growing denser in recent years, and I do not wish to find out what another decade will do. Not within the city, at least."

A small smile crossed his face, and he added, "But even if we had the time, that armor would be a bad choice for you. It’s too big — I doubt you’d be able to control it even with centuries of training."

With a sigh, Arran reluctantly tore his eyes away from the armor, then continued his search.

The next thing that caught his eye was a large poleaxe. It was a brutal weapon, clearly designed for the battlefield, and Arran had no doubt that it could wreak havoc on any enemies with the misfortune of being struck by it.

Yet after a moment, he shook his head — the weapon was too large, and he knew little of polearms. And even if the weapon could change shape, he wanted an item whose natural shape was a familiar one.

Next, he turned his attention to a large, heavy sword. An executioner’s blade, from the looks of it. There was a viciousness to the weapon that Arran liked, along with an almost malevolent hunger. Still, he rejected this weapon as well — it was still too large, and it appeared unwieldy, besides.

Again, he looked further, and a moment later, he spotted a large two-handed blade. Its appearance immediately caused a smile to appear on his face. While it was large, it seemed well-balanced, and Arran could easily imagine himself wielding it on a battlefield.

But a moment later, he realized that there was something about it that didn’t feel right — as if it had been made for ceremony rather than battle. He frowned, then moved on once more.

Over the next half hour, he examined countless weapons and pieces of armor — war hammers, shields, spears, halberds, staves, and numerous swords. Yet, again and again, he found himself reluctant to choose any of the items.

Although each of the items was masterfully crafted and made from a material vastly more valuable than starmetal, none of them drew Arran like the armor had. And although he knew he could not choose the armor, he couldn’t help but compare each of the items to it, and every one of them fell short.

But then, suddenly, Arran saw it — an arming sword, hidden in a corner among the lesser weapons. Even without touching it, he could see that it was heavy but perfectly balanced, and its design was simple but functional. It was a sword made for war, forged for someone who cared about victory rather than glory.

To Arran’s eyes, it was perfect in every way.

"This one," he said instantly. "This is the sword I choose."

Karanos didn’t respond immediately, and when he did, there was hesitation in his voice. "It’s large..." he began.

But then, sensing Arran’s excitement, he let out a sigh. "All right. Take it. When you touch it, you will feel a pulling sensation. Do not resist it. You will have to feed it a great deal of Essence before you can control it." In a tense voice, he added, "Just be quick about it. We don’t have much longer — a week, if that."

A broad grin appeared on Arran’s face. Bracing himself for what was to come, he reached for the sword.